


Just Because I Call You Up

by Polaris



Series: I’m Not in Love [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Does this count as bestiality? I can't tell, Fix-It, Gross Ravagers, Hand Jobs, I would like to apologize to Sean Gunn and also Jesus, Kraglin is a filthy mofo, Oral Sex, Other, Pining, Polyamory Negotiations, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Size Difference, Unhealthy Relationships, raccoon sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 04:30:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12268929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polaris/pseuds/Polaris
Summary: No one wants to fuck a crabby puppy. Therein lies the problem, one Rocket has gone his entire life without bumping into before now.





	Just Because I Call You Up

Look, Rocket’s not stupid, okay?

He was engineered to have genius level intellect, got it? He spent years in a lab learning diagnostics and scans and his own skeletal and nervous systems as they were ripped out and reassembled. He knows what he looks like.

It ain't a pretty picture. He's aware.

Thing is, when you spend your entire life treated like an animal in spite of being the smartest person in the room (and the only other person in the room right now is Quill, so that's an easy contest), you start to get used to it. Rocket’s been called every insulting thing in the book. Triangle faced monkey. Creepy little beast. Rodent. Vermin. Raccoon.

Trash panda.

He knows them all by heart, holds each one close and keeps them deep inside to fuel the rage he always has simmering. But a guy can’t help internalizing some of it when it's been going on forever. He don't feel like an animal, really. Can't even remember the times when he would have. Besides, it's not like his grooming habits are that weird. He's seen Quill and Gamora do weirder. Hell, Groot used to eat his own flowers, so Rocket doesn't feel bad about compulsively licking his paws like he's doing now. It's soothing, okay?

A warm blue hand settles on the back of his neck, grounding him. Rocket stills with his tongue still out, hand raised to his face.

“Cut it out, Rat,” Yondu mutters, scratching ragged nails through the fur of Rocket’s nape before stepping fully into the room.

And Rocket does.

\---

See, the thing about looking like he does? The rest of the Guardians treat him like a pet. He knows they don't mean to, and they'll all deny it if he bitches, but it happens. They'd never touch each other like they pet him. Sure, Quill and Gamora have their mostly unspoken thing going on, where they dance when no one is watching (or so they think; Rocket’s small enough to fit in the ducts. He's seen them swaying together a few times now), and Yondu will curl his hand around the back of Quill’s neck in a way that's both comfort and warning when the asshole’s mouth runs away with him, but no one’s ever tried to pet Drax. It's an indignity Rocket bears with his usual grace, which is to say, none. He tells himself Mantis is gonna lose a finger next time she tries, but he can never manage to do more than snarl in her stupid sweet face.

Rocket hates being petted.

Well, he used to.

See, the thing to remember is that Rocket might look like some pest animal from Quill’s homeworld, but he ain't any less of a person than the rest of them. He notices things too, like the play of muscles when Drax rolls his shoulders, or the way Gamora’s nose crinkles when she really smiles, or the thin line of hair that trails down Quill’s abdomen and disappears into his pants. He has eyes, okay? He just never bothered with it before because it never mattered. 

No one wants to fuck a crabby puppy. Therein lies the problem, one Rocket has gone his entire life without bumping into before now.

That warm blue hand on the back of his neck? Lights him up like he's been electrocuted.

\---

He wishes he could say this wasn't a huge deal, but he'd be lying. He's trying to get better about that since Yondu called him out. Yondu held himself up as a mirror, and now Rocket can't stop looking. 

He's finding out that he likes what he sees. Yondu ain't the prettiest guy in the galaxy, despite what he says, but lately that crooked grin _does_ things to Rocket. Apparently his type is old, blue, and wrinkly with disgusting teeth. He only wishes he expected better of himself.

He can still feel the weight of that hand on his neck, even as he wanders lower in the ship toward the little room he's claimed for himself. No one stopped him, even when he tossed all the shit that had been in there out into the hallway. He wonders if that's Yondu's doing.

Building things is Rocket’s favorite hobby; the bigger the explosion it makes, the more fun it is to design. In the past he's always been able to take refuge in this. It pulls him out of himself just enough to silence all the crap in his head. This _thing_ , though, makes it hard to focus on anything but the feel of those big hands on him. He looks down and curses at himself; the gun he's been rewiring is totally wrong. 

This is getting out of hand. Someone could really get hurt if he screws up their weaponry. That's a thought that sobers him up pretty quick. Rocket don't have much of a heart, but he shows he cares by making sure his crazy ass family is always armed and ready for shit to hit the fan.

(His pack is fully stocked now with spacesuits and aero rigs, enough for everyone. He checked it an hour ago, and late last night when he woke up panicking to visions of blue skin gone white with ice crystals, and red eyes frozen like jewels in a dead face)

Rocket rubs a hand across his eyes and shudders. He can still see Kraglin's pale face tight with unsaid shit as he pulled the Quadrant around hard, barreling back toward the dying planet as fast as the Quadrant could take them. He remembers Quill’s high sobs over the comm, and the horribly knowing look Drax gave them both as Rocket gripped Kraglin's sleeve.

He fixes the gun.

\---

Nebula’s started hanging around the main room while Rocket works, lurking in the background like a fucking creep. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. She never says anything, which is weird. That's weird, isn't it? What kind of asshole lurks without talking? Rocket turns the music louder to cover the sounds of her fixing her hand. He could offer to do it for her, but she shot him and Yondu and helped Ronan, and just because he loves Groot now that he's all little and cute don't mean he's over losing his first friend. Nebula can fix her own fucking hand.

He quietly hates her until she passes him the tool he's been reaching for, groping around the table because he can't take his eyes off the wiring or the whole ship might blow.

“This is what you were looking for?” she asks in her low raspy voice, and Rocket feels the welder’s familiar weight in his hand.

“Yeah,” he mutters gruffly. “Thanks.”

\---

He thinks Gamora knows, when they lock eyes over the table at dinner. She hasn't brought up the fact that he zapped the living shit out of her to keep her on board when they took off, and he's sure not gonna mention it. He ain't scared of Gamora, but he's very aware of how easily she could kick his ass if she wanted. Luckily, she's not the type to hold a grudge. Not like her psycho sister, who sits her ass down next to Kraglin of all people at the far end of the table.

Gamora treats Nebula like she's made of glass. Like she'll run off again if Gamora does or says the wrong thing. Rocket knows how that feels because he's constantly worried everyone's gonna ditch him. He perversely combats this fear by being as obnoxious as possible, although he's working on that. 

Not biting Mantis’s small hand when she reaches toward him with a tentative smile is a good start. He resigns himself to nightly petting and shovels tasteless food in his face, refusing to look at Gamora. If he doesn't make eye contact he won't have to snap at her to shut up.

Mantis smiles sweetly down at him as she scratches the good spot behind his ear. “You are pleased about your work.” Her voice goes up a little, like she's asking something.

His tail twitches. “Yeah,” he mumbles.

She beams. “I like it when you are happy about things.”

“That's nice,” he tells her tonelessly. 

“It is so different than how you usually feel.” 

Rocket puts his spoon down. “And that's enough petting today. Get off me.”

“Oh.” She pulls her hand back, disappointment all over her face. “Did I say something wrong again? I am sorry.”

Rocket hates how open she is. It grates on his last nerve. “No, you didn't do nothing. It's fine. I'm just done.”

Yondu has his arrow out at the far end of the table, on Kraglin's other side, checking over Rocket's repairs. Clearly listening in like an asshole, he glances up and quirks a brow at Rocket. The expression is almost proud.

Fuck this. Rocket takes his bowl and leaves.

\---

It ain't that he's avoiding people, okay? He isn't. He's just spending a lot of time alone. There's stuff to work on. Even if they've been adopted or whatever by the other Ravager clans, the Sovereign still want them dead. And so do the Kree purists. And after what Yondu told him about being a slave, Rocket will be damned if he lets the Kree get the jump on them.

The new bombs are coming along swimmingly, if he does say so himself. They're small, nasty little grenades that release timed bursts of alternating magnetic fields strong enough to rip open steel. Not really a bomb, but damned if he can think of a better term for it.

Heavy boots thunk on metal as Yondu throws himself onto the bench opposite Rocket.

Somehow he's missed the memo that his workshop is the place to be.

“What?” he asks, gruff as always, because he doesn't have to pretend not to be an asshole with Yondu.

“Heard you was holed up down here,” Yondu comments casually, looking over Rocket’s assorted junk. He picks up one of the bomb casings, rolling it in his palm. Rocket painted it a bright candy pink, and he's briefly mesmerized by how it contrasts with blue skin.

“Got stuff to work on,” he mumbles, looking away before he's caught. Yondu didn't survive this long by missing much.

“Spacesuits?” Yondu asks, flashing Rocket a knowing grin.

Rocket deliberately puts down his screwdriver. He could play it off, if he wanted, but he knows Yondu would call him on it. “I'm not doing that again,” he finally admits. 

Yondu nods, finding something else to look at while Rocket recovers from his horrifying brush with sincerity. Rocket can't get over it, how Yondu always knows the right way to handle him. He pushes, but except for that one time he's never backed Rocket into a corner. Rocket thinks he might-

No. Nope. He's not even gonna think it.

He lets himself go there, he's lost. There's no coming back from some things, and Rocket ain't in the habit of throwing himself at hopeless causes. 

“So whatta these cute li’l buggers do?” Yondu asks, tossing the bomb in the air.

“Rip shit apart,” Rocket tells him with a vicious grin.

Yondu's answering grin is a wicked leer, all crooked teeth and gleaming metal. “An’ you called me a maniac.”

“Not takin’ it back either, gramps. You're batshit crazy.”

“Gramps?” Yondu claps a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “How very fuckin’ dare you, Rat. I'm the prettiest sumbitch on this ship.”

Rocket snickers in spite of himself. “Look at your competition,” he points out, and laughs at the face Yondu pulls.

“Still,” Yondu muses as he tosses Rocket's pretty little bomb in the air again, “I reckon these’ll come in pretty handy next time we run across someone nasty.”

“I like to plan ahead,” Rocket says.

“No shortage o’ people t’ piss off,” Yondu agrees.

They grin at each other, and Rocket can't get over how easy it is, just being like this.

\---

The voices from below are what distracts him.

“You talked to ‘em then? All the cap’ns?” Kraglin asks hesitantly. 

“Yeah.” Yondu's voice is gruff. “I reckon we’s all square with Stakar an’ the rest.”

“Yeah...Cap'n?”

“Whassat?”

“There's somethin’ you oughta know.” Kraglin shifts uncomfortably, like he's too big for his skin. “Stakar offered me a job. Cushy bridge duty, my own cabin. Said I seemed like a good man t’ have around.” 

Rocket, crouched in the ducts above them, pauses where he was tinkering with the temperature settings for this level to look down.

Yondu's face is a mask. “Did he, now? Well, I guess he gon’ be a lucky man. You'll do well as a proper Ravager.”

“I told him no.”

Rocket sees Yondu’s sharp look. “What the hell would you do a fool thing like that for?” he demands.

“Told him I won't serve under no cap’n but you,” Kraglin mumbles.

Yondu stares, mouth open like he wants to say something. It takes him a good minute to figure out what. “Never took ya for an idiot, Krags.”

Kraglin is looking at Yondu with an expression Rocket knows way too well; he's seen it in his own reflection whenever Yondu walks away from him. Longing. “You tell me plenty how stupid I am,” he says softly.

“Not like this.” Yondu's voice is getting rougher, maybe to balance Kraglin's tone. “Throwin’ away a good future for nothin’.”

“That what you think I'm doin’?” Kraglin straightens and looks down his beaky nose at Yondu. “It ain't nothin’ if it's what I want. You're gonna rebuild. Get a new crew. An’ I'm gonna be there when you do it.”

Yondu shakes his head. “I'm stayin’ with Quill.”

It hangs in the air between them.

Then Kraglin says, “I go where you go.”

Simple as that. Like he doesn't have a bunch of other choices. Rocket's heart is pounding hard as he watches from above, looking at Yondu.

Yondu, who's staring at Kraglin like he's never seen him before. Like he can't believe what he's hearing. What Kraglin's offering him.

“Don't,” he croaks out, looking away. “I ain't worth that.”

“Like hell you ain't!” Rocket jumps at the venom in Kraglin’s voice. “I damn near lost you. If Rocket hadn't had a tracker on ya we would have. When I saw you out there...” He shakes his head. When he speaks again, his voice is hardly more than a whisper. “I had t’ watch Tullk an’ Oblo an’ the rest of ‘em go out that way, an’ all I could think was _not you too._ I ain't weak, sir, but I got my limits like anyone else.”

Yondu tries to say something but Kraglin cuts him off. “An’ I know why you never did nothin’ about this, back when we had the crew. I get it. Cap’n can't have favorites. But you ain't cap’n no more, an’ I waited long enough. So you gonna kiss me or what?”

There’s a loaded pause before Yondu moves, fast like he's going in for a strike. But he grabs Kraglin's collar and pulls the other man's mouth down to meet his.

Rocket hears a quiet moan and realizes it's him. He grabs at the fur on the sides of his face and pulls hard enough to hurt. He should go. This ain't something he should see.

He can't look away. 

Yondu kisses like he's got something to prove, if the way he manhandles Kraglin against the wall is any indication. He kisses like he's starving and Kraglin's the first bite to eat he's had in years. Those hands Rocket's been dreaming about cradle Kraglin's gaunt face like he's more precious than air, and Rocket, who's done his best over the years to pretend he don't have a heart, feels it breaking into a million little pieces.

This ain't something he should be seeing.

Self preservation finally kicks in and he flees, scampering through the ducts and across pipes to get as far away from that tender moment as he possibly can. 

He finally lets himself out in his work room, sucking in a deep breath only to find himself pinned in Nebula’s crosshairs.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he shrieks. This is the last thing he should have to deal with right now. “You know this is my fucking room, right?”

She gives him her signature creepy blank stare, but she does lower the weapon. Goody. “Why aren't you asleep?”

He glares at her, brushing the dust off his fur. “What's it to you?”

“Nothing,” she snaps, stashing the gun in its holster. “I thought I was alone.”

“Lurking, you mean?” he asks nastily. He wants to hurt someone right now and she's here. “Skulking around like someone's kicked pet until Gamora gives you some attention?”

She actually flinches, and Rocket spares a second to feel like an asshole. “As opposed to you avoiding everyone so they don't notice your little crush?” she snarls back. “Don't think no one’s noticed.”

“You--” Rocket goes for his gun and finds himself with a knife in his face. He never even saw her move. He bares his teeth at her. “You're a real bitch, you know that?”

She smirks. “I've been told.”

Rocket sighs and turns away from her. Fighting felt good for a second, but now he's just tired and miserable. He wants to be alone. “Get out. I wanna get some sleep. Avoid the far hallway on this level if you don't wanna watch Yondu and Kraglin suck face.”

When he turns back, Nebula’s face is twisted with displeasure. She opens her mouth, closes it, and opens it again. Rocket’s about to snap at her for flapping like a fish when she blurts, “I'm sorry.”

He stares at her.

Nebula shifts awkwardly. “I'm sorry I mocked you. I didn't...”

“Shut up.” Rocket’s shoulders slump. Why bother pretending he ain't upset about it? He can still see the way Yondu clutched at Kraglin when he closes his eyes. It makes him want to throw things, or blow ‘em up. Kick whatever's closest.

Except Nebula’s still hovering. She refuses to make eye contact when she says, carefully, “I don't really think anyone else has noticed. I was being cruel.”

“I still don't know why you're here,” sighs Rocket. He flops onto his bed and stares at her blearily. An idea occurs to him. “But since you clearly ain't leaving, you wanna get drunk?”

Nebula blinks. “What?”

“Did I stutter, Blue?”

“I--” she seems lost for words. “I've never gotten drunk before.”

Rocket rolls his eyes. Of course he'd end up drowning his sorrows with a lightweight. This is his freaking life. He pulls a bottle from under his bed (to help him sleep, okay? Just to help him sleep sometimes, after the dreams get bad) and wiggles it at Nebula. “First time for everything.”

She stares at the bottle and then squares her shoulders like she's going into battle before marching toward him and sitting down. The bed dips under her weight as Rocket pulls the cork out of the bottle.

He takes the first swig, since he fucking deserves it, okay? And it's a good one, burning the whole way down. He wipes his mouth and hands the bottle over. “Start slow.”

Nebula eyes the bottle with distaste, but gamely lifts it up for a swallow. She pulls a face, but manages not to cough. “What kind of cheap piss are you drinking?” she demands.

“The available kind,” Rocket tells her. “You might've figured out I'm not picky.”

“You need standards,” she says, taking a bigger swig. Rocket snatches the bottle back before she can drink it all.

“Big words for someone who's puttin’ it away like you are,” he points out.

They drink in silence for awhile, working up a good buzz. Then Nebula asks, “why Udonta?”

“None of your business.” Rocket leans back against the wall, trying to wiggle into a position that don't aggravate his implants.

“You're rude,” she mutters, sounding put out. Rocket glances over and yeah, she's half in the bag already. Great.

He sighs. “The guy gets it.” There. That's all he's giving her. She hasn't earned any more than that.

But Nebula’s nodding like she understands, taking a pull from the bottle and burping quietly. 

“Thought you'd have better tolerance for this stuff,” he says wryly. 

She peers at him. “Why?”

“Well, your-” He gestures at her cybernetic arm, which is clutching the bottle. “I mean, mine include all sorts of shit to boost my immunity.”

At that, she laughs. It ain't a happy sound. “I'm immune to things that could kill me. Alcohol was a luxury my father never let us indulge in.”

“No wonder you're so fucked up,” Rocket mutters, and it sends her into a giggling fit. It's the most disturbing thing he's ever heard, so he throws one of his pillows at her. “Cut it out!”

She lists to the side and ends up sprawled across his bed. “We should be drunk all the time,” she announces.

Rocket takes the bottle out of her hand; she lets it go without a fight. “You're not gonna think that in the morning,” he tells her, watching with disgust as she curls around the pillow he launched at her. “Hey! Scram!” 

When her only response is to wiggle defiantly, he growls, “if you stay here I'm telling everyone we slept together!”

“Go ahead. Maybe it will make Udonta jealous.” Nebula raises her eyebrows.

Rocket looks away. “Yeah, that ain't how that works, Blue. He's fucking somebody else, and I'm still a furry little freak.” He might be drunker than he thought.

“We're both freaks,” she murmurs sleepily, and who's Rocket to argue with that?

\---

“Well now, looks like I missed a party.” Yondu's drawl drives a spike into the space behind Rocket’s left eyeball, and he flattens his ears back against his skull.

“Fuck outta here, old man,” he growls, burying his face in the warm pillow he's nestled against.

The pillow moves and turns out to be Nebula’s tits. Rocket rears backward, fast enough that he overbalances and topples off the bed. Yondu's hand shoots out to grab him by the scruff and keep him from braining himself on the deck.

“Hey now,” he warns, settling Rocket on his feet. The hand stays buried in his fur, distracting him from gnawing the bastard’s finger off like he should.

Nebula grunts at the two of them and rolls over. Rocket glares at her for a second and then scowls up at Yondu.

“Shouldn't you be gettin’ your beauty sleep?” he asks. “God knows you can't afford to get any uglier.”

Yondu just rolls his eyes. “Yer a real bitch when y’ wake up, ain't ya? Come on, ‘s almost noon. Rest of ‘em was gettin’ worried about ya.”

The last thing Rocket wants is to go make nice with everyone. His mouth tastes like something died in it and his fur’s crusted to the side of his face where he apparently drooled all over Nebula last night. 

Those thick blue fingers start to card through his fur. He wrenches away from Yondu. “Pass.”

Yondu shrugs. “Suit yerself. Li’l sister here is bound t’ be jus’ as sweet tempered as you are when she wakes up wit’ the mother of all hangovers.”

Shit, he's got a point. Rocket eyes Nebula’s back warily and begins grooming himself. Hell if he's gonna let Quill see him like this. Or worse, Groot.

Yondu doesn't say anything, for which Rocket is pathetically grateful. If the blue bastard hadn't seen so much of him already, Rocket would never let himself indulge in his quirks with him around. But then, Rocket’s seen Yondu at his lowest too.

He wishes he could forget last night. His life had been so much happier before he'd seen the way Kraglin melts under Yondu's kisses, or heard the sounds Yondu makes when Kraglin grabs him to pull him closer.

When he finally looks like he didn't pass out drunk the night before, Rocket straightens up and gives Yondu an expectant look. “You better lead me straight to the coffee, asshole.”

“Sure, I'm the asshole,” mutters Yondu good-naturedly. His hand falls on the back of Rocket’s neck as they walk, scratching against his scalp and lighting up all his nerve endings. 

Rocket should pull away. He just saw Yondu kissing Kraglin like his life depended on it.

He lets the hand stay.

\---

Kraglin's been watching him, and it's starting to freak him out. 

See, Rocket knows subtlety ain't his best talent. The winking thing he's still working on is proof of that, so it don't take a genius to figure out that Kraglin might've noticed Rocket’s got a massive thing for his man.

He just hoped Kraglin would be cool enough to let it slide. You know, in the name of friendship. Or whatever the hell you call it when you helped the guy you're both gone on murder his whole crew.

Guess not.

Rocket ain't proud of all the things he's done in the past couple days to get out of being alone with Kraglin. Using Nebula as a meat shield is one thing, but sending Groot after Kraglin all full of sugar is a new low, even for Rocket.

He feels like an asshole, but hey, he's gotta do what he's gotta do.

And it's hard to feel too guilty when he's finally got some alone time in his room. Without Groot or Mantis or Nebula hanging around, he can actually work on his side projects. Peace and fucking quiet are hard to come by around here. He has to cherish it.

Then he hears the door click shut, and Kraglin's voice saying “I oughta tan your flarkin’ hide, ya know.”

Rocket looks up, already baring his teeth. If Kraglin wants a fight, then they can have it out right here.

The skinny bastard’s got his arms crossed and he's leaning against the door, staring at Rocket with hooded eyes. “I spent th’ last two an’ a half hours listenin’ to the twig repeat the same three words while he dragged me around t’ look at every goddamn orloni on the ship.”

In spite of himself, Rocket snickers.

“I coulda been balls deep in the cap'n for an hour o’ that time,” Kraglin continues matter-of-factly, and that makes Rocket quit laughing. 

“I had plans,” says Kraglin, and now there's some irritation creeping into his voice, “an’ you went an’ cockblocked me with your li’l tree.”

Rocket swallows as Kraglin pushes off the door and stalks toward him. The guy's so goofy most of the time, Rocket forgets he's still a Ravager. Hard to forget now though, when he's prowling the perimeter of the room. It sets all Rocket’s prey instincts on edge.

“I get why ya did it,” Kraglin says reasonably. “He flirts somethin’ terrible, even when he don't mean to.” 

Ouch. Rocket guesses he deserves that, but it don't ease the sting any. He swivels his stool to keep Kraglin in his sight line. “Don't see why you gotta be such a dick about it, Kraglin. Ain't like I'm competition or nothing.”

“Ain't you?” Kraglin stops and studies him. “I heard that speech he gave ya. Maybe you don’t understand what that meant, him tellin’ you all that stuff about his past. I do. He don't talk about that. Not t’ anyone.” 

Rocket’s brows furrow. “So why the hell would he say it to me?”

“I been wonderin’ that.” Kraglin crosses his arms again. “I known him almost thirty years an’ I've never seen him take t’ no one like he took t’ you. Not even Quill.”

“Well, that's no surprise,” mutters Rocket before he can help himself. “Anyone with even half a brain can see I'm way better than Quill.”

Kraglin's not laughing. “Don't waste your time on that,” he says. “No one’s ever gonna be more important t’ him than that kid.”

Rocket suddenly remembers Kraglin’s pissy little speech that kicked off the mutiny. “Never took you for the jealous type.”

“You ain't any different,” says Kraglin with a shrug. “If we wasn't greedy we’d ‘a both died in the gutter. You keep what you get. Ain't that right?” He's giving Rocket a hard stare.

It makes him squirm; he don't like being under this much scrutiny. “What's your point, beanpole? You here to warn me off? I'm not the one goin’ outta my way to hang out with him, okay?”

“I know.” Kraglin's looking at him like he's stupid. “That's why I'm here.”

And maybe he is stupid, because that don't make any sense to him at all. “What?”

“I seen how he is with you. Puttin’ his hands all over your pretty fur.” Kraglin takes another step forward, the look on his face edging toward predatory.

Rocket's prey instincts are definitely kicked up to high alert. He's gotten a lot of dirty looks over the years, but this is the first time anyone's ever looked like they actually wanted to eat him. He grabs the nearest gun and brings it up. “Back up,” he warns. He don't wanna hurt Kraglin, even if the guy's being creepy.

The gun makes him freeze. “Aw, hell.” Kraglin rubs a hand over his face. “You don't know, do ya? Shit. Never mind.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Rocket demands. He jumps to his feet as Kraglin turns and slinks away, gesturing at him with the gun before he gets the door open. “Kraglin! What are you talking about?”

Kraglin stops with his hand on the latch. His shoulders slump. “I shouldn't’a bothered you. Wasn't my place.”

“Then why did you even come down here?” snarls Rocket.

Kraglin looks back with a weird little smile. “Guess I jus’ been wonderin’ what makes you so special,” he says, and then he's gone.

“What the fuck?” Rocket whispers to his empty room.

\---

“You know,” says Rocket when Yondu plonks down on the bench across from him, “you do a pretty good job of pretendin’ to be the scary one.”

“What’chu talkin’ about, boy?” 

“Or maybe it's Kraglin who's good at pretending not to be psycho,” he continues casually. He picks up part of a signal jammer and inspects the hardware. “I'm not sure yet.”

Yondu's frowning at him, brows drawn down over his eyes. “You been talkin’ with Kraglin?”

“Yep. He came in here the other day. I can see why Nebula likes him, they're both fucking creepy.” Rocket gives Yondu a pleasant ‘fuck-you’ smile.

“So what’d he say to you?” asks Yondu quietly. 

Rocket eyes him and decides he's earned the right to be a shithead. “Is it true I'm your favorite?” he asks in a sweet voice.

He's expecting Yondu to roll his eyes and snap back, but instead he just sighs.

“Dammit Krags,” he mutters, running a hand over his face. “Never did know when t’ leave good enough alone.”

When he doesn't say anything else, Rocket prompts, “hey, you wanna, I dunno, fill me in on what exactly I'm missing here?”

Yondu says nothing.

“Anything? A hint for your old pal Rocket?” Nothing. “Oh come on, jerkoff! You're the one whose boyfriend is bein’ weird at me! I just wanna know why.”

“It's ‘cause he's lookin’ t’ fuck you, that's why,” Yondu snaps.

Wait, what? “What?”

“Bastard does this every goddamn time,” grumbles Yondu, and it might be Rocket's imagination but he looks bluer than usual.

“Are you blushing, old man? And also, what?!” Rocket doesn't think he's overreacting. He's only screeching a little. And seriously, what? Why the hell would Kraglin of all people wanna get down and dirty with Rocket?

“I don' blush, shut up. Quit bein’ a prick an’ I'll tell you.” Yondu sighs, muttering “old man” under his breath like Rocket ain't called him worse. He gets up and paces the length of the room restlessly, rubbing the stubble on his chin before he finally sits his ass down on Rocket’s bed.

Which Rocket ain't thinking about, because Kraglin is apparently into whatever the hell Rocket is. Kraglin, who insinuated that Yondu is also into whatever the hell Rocket is.

Rocket needs a drink.

“What ya gotta understand, boy, issat me an’ Kraglin could never be together with the crew around.” Yondu's voice is soft when he finally starts talking. “Cap'n can't have favorites. ‘S bad form t’ start fuckin’ yer bridge crew. But I already told you I was young an’ greedy, an’ I wanted him.”

Rocket slips off the stool; Yondu's voice is getting softer.

“‘Bout a year after he joined up, we got drunk, an’ you can guess where that wound up. Had t’ pretend like nothin’ ever happened. But it ain't like we stopped wantin’ each other. I went my way, he went his. But every time I made it with someone new, he'd get ‘em into bed not long after. Always made sure I knew it, too. Stakin’ his claim th’ only way he could get away with.”

“I go where you go,” Rocket echoes wryly, and Yondu shoots him a sharp look.

“Guess I shouldn' be surprised,” he mutters. “I already knew you was a nosy li’l shit.”

Rocket shrugs. “In my defense, I was genuinely there to fix the temperature valves.”

“Uh huh. An’ you jus’ decided t’ stick around an’ listen in on a private conversation?” Yondu's quirked eyebrow is way too knowing.

“Shut up,” grumbles Rocket. “Not my fault you guys have issues.”

Yondu snorts at that. “Yeah, I guess we do,” he allows.

Rocket’s turning this new information over in his head, not sure what the hell he's supposed to do with it. Of course, there's always the chance that Yondu's succumbed to senility in his old age and everything he's just told Rocket is absolute bullshit. That's the comfortable option. Rocket knows what to do with bullshit.

When he meets Yondu's eyes again, they're serious. Boring into him just like they had during his speech on the bridge. Like Yondu can see to the heart of him. He swallows. 

Yondu wouldn't bullshit him. Not Yondu.

Which leaves Rocket in a pretty awkward situation. What's he supposed to do with this information, exactly? Yondu and Kraglin have a long and apparently really fucked up history. Rocket don't like to compete if he can't win. And the idea that someone, much less two someones, wanna fuck him is so far from what he considered possible that it just doesn't seem real.

“No smartass comebacks?” Yondu asks, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms. It finally occurs to Rocket that the guy's embarrassed.

He ain't the only one. “I--I dunno,” he manages. Is he stuttering? What the hell’s the matter with him? He needs to get out of here.

Yondu's got this horrible understanding look on his face. He shifts his stance, spreading his legs and leaning forward, and if Rocket's eyes wander, then so what? He never claimed to be a saint.

“You can't fool me,” says Yondu softly, a slow grin curving his mouth. “I seen you lookin’.”

Rocket swallows, shame churning in his gut. “So what?” he spits. He reaches for the anger and it feels good. “So fucking what! Yeah, okay, your moldy blue ass does it for me! Big stinking deal! You got Kraglin, and I'm a--”

“--Hey now,” Yondu tries to cut him off, but now Rocket's got a good rant going. 

“ _Look at me!_ ” he shrieks, gesturing to himself. “I'm a monster! You don't want this! _Nobody_ wants this!”

“You know,” says Yondu loudly, talking over Rocket like he's not even here, “I am pretty sick an’ goddamn tired of bein’ told what I want an’ what I can have.” He pins Rocket with a narrow-eyed glare. “You think I don’ know you're scared, boy? Bein’ offered somethin’ you thought was impossible? You think I don't know?” He pulls down the scarf around his neck, exposing an ugly ring of pale blue scarring.

Rocket stares.

“Scariest thing of all is gettin’ everything you ever wanted,” says Yondu, and his voice is soft now. 

Rocket raises his eyes from Yondu's throat. Those red eyes are boring into him again. 

“Dammit,” he whispers. “Damn you. You always do this. You _see_ everything. I can't--” He wraps his arms around himself and wonders when he started shaking.

“C’mere, boy,” says Yondu in that soft voice.

And Rocket goes, docile as a puppy, because he's so sick of fighting. Yondu's arms close around him and pick him up, and if anyone else tried this Rocket would blow their head off. 

Instead he buries his face in Yondu's chest, drunk on the smell of leather and old sweat. He's not sure how the others stand it, since they act like anything that smells interesting is gross, but Rocket likes it. It makes the animal part of his brain happy, and he might hate that part of himself but he can't pretend it don't exist.

“Can't believe I like your stench,” he mutters, and closes his eyes as Yondu's chuckle vibrates against his cheek.

“Ravager musk,” Yondu tells him proudly. His hand rubs up and down Rocket’s back from his neck to the top of his tail. He's feeling out Rocket’s hardware through his jumpsuit.

“Gross.” But he melts into the touch. Those hands feel just as good as he always imagined.

“I know you're still sniffin’ me, boy,” says Yondu as he curls a hand around the base of Rocket’s tail, shocking a gasp from him. “So why don't you quit talkin’ shit for a minute an’ let me take care’a ya?”

“Oh god,” Rocket gasps as Yondu reaches under his tail, palming his ass with one warm hand. “Yondu--"

“When's the las’ time you let yourself have somethin’ nice?” asks Yondu softly, sliding his hand further between Rocket’s legs. Rocket spreads shamelessly, fighting the urge to lift his ass in the air.

“At Kraglin's expense?” he pants, only half caring. Rocket's never been one to back down from bad decisions.

“You let me deal wit’ Kraglin,” Yondu tells him, rubbing wicked fingers against Rocket's balls.

And Rocket never even knew he could make that noise. His ass is definitely in the air now, and if Yondu makes fun of him he's gonna bite, but Yondu just smirks and flips him over.

“What the--” He starts to get up, but Yondu pulls him back against his chest. 

“I got you,” he says, and palms Rocket's dick properly.

Rocket's head thumps back against Yondu's shoulder as his dick practically jumps out of its sheath. Yondu traces the shape of his cock through his jumpsuit, light enough to make Rocket squirm. “Ah, fuck,” he whispers.

“Tha’s right, boy. Jus’ let me,” Yondu murmurs. “Feels good, don't it?”

“Uh huh,” says Rocket faintly, hands scrabbling against leather as he looks for something to grab onto. Yondu's hand is big enough to cup his whole groin; he's grinding the heel of his hand just right against Rocket’s cock while he tickles his balls. Rocket lets out a needy animal noise before he can bite it back. He can't remember spreading his legs so wide, but they're splayed out on either side of Yondu's.

“There you go.” Yondu's voice should be illegal. “Ain't you a pretty thing when you're all soft an’ sweet like this.” The hand on Rocket's chest starts unfastening his jumpsuit.

Rocket just moans, closing his eyes so he can concentrate on how Yondu's fingers feel against his fur. They're teasing little brushes as he gets Rocket's suit open to the waist.

When Yondu's other hand leaves his crotch Rocket almost yells at him. Which would have been a mistake, because the next thing he knows that hand’s inside his clothes, groping his dick, and it's skin on skin and it's better than anything Rocket's been imagining. Callused fingers slide up and down his slippery dick, smearing his fur with precum before slipping back to roll his balls.

“Oh god,” he can hear himself whispering. “Oh my god.”

Yondu chuckles, petting Rocket's bare chest while he takes turns rolling and tugging on his balls. It's way too good; Rocket's hands are clenched tight on Yondu's thighs, claws digging into leather.

“Look at’chu,” murmurs Yondu as he rocks his hips up. He's hard, Rocket realizes. Yondu's hard because of him. 

“Fuck,” he pants. “That a gun in your pocket, old man?” He rolls his head back to leer at Yondu and gets a nip on the nose for it.

Yondu laughs and rubs his cock against Rocket’s ass. “Tha’s all fer you, brat.” 

“Lemme see.” Rocket's mouth is watering; the thought of Yondu getting off on him is so fucking hot.

His eyebrows shoot up, but Yondu obliges. He pulls his hand out of Rocket's suit (it's wet, and Rocket perversely hopes he'll lick it off his fingers) and reaches down to open his own leathers. “Lean forward, boy. I'm gettin’ this thing offa ya.”

Rocket lets him peel off the suit, kicking when one leg gets stuck and then deciding fuck it when Yondu pulls him back. He can feel Yondu's cock slide against his asshole, impossibly huge. It's good, so good he almost wants to try cramming it into him.

But then Yondu's hand is back, wrapping fully around Rocket's slim dick and pumping fast. It shocks a cry out of him as he melts into it.

“You gon’ come like this?” Yondu asks, and that low raspy voice shoots straight to Rocket's dick. He nods frantically, wishing he could draw it out longer, but it's no good. Yondu's hand twists and squeezes just right at the head and that's it, he's gone. He comes all over himself with a horrible keening noise and flops limply against Yondu's chest. 

“Hell yeah,” whispers Yondu before he pushes Rocket's thighs together and begins thrusting between them, groaning quietly. Rocket can't help but stare, mesmerized by the way the dark blue head keeps popping out from greyish fur. 

“Our colors look good together,” he slurs, fuck drunk and happy, and he arches up to lick at the underside of Yondu's stubbly chin.

Yondu comes with a bitten-off curse and a grunt, spurting onto Rocket's already filthy belly and promptly slumping down onto his back. 

Rocket lays on his chest, enjoying the rhythmic rise and fall that slows as Yondu catches his breath. He reaches down to smear the mess on his fur and ends up rubbing it into his skin. It smells good.

“Well, shit,” says Yondu after a few minutes. “Wasn't quite where I was expectin’ this afternoon t’ go.”

Rocket's seized with dread. “Are you sorry?” he asks, praying that just once, just one fucking time, the universe will let him have something and keep it.

“Nah.” Yondu idly strokes up and down his belly, making Rocket squirm. “Ship’s too small for us t’ keep dancin’ around each other.”

Rocket goes quiet, basking in the afterglow and the feel of Yondu petting his belly. “So Kraglin's not gonna be a problem?” 

“Didn' say that.” Yondu gives Rocket a last pat and then sits up. “He ain't stupid enough t’ think we’s suddenly gonna settle down an’ quit fuckin’ anyone else who catches our eye. An’ if he is, then he's gonna learn that ain't me.” The stare he gives Rocket is hard. “You get me?”

Rocket rolls his eyes. “I don't own you.”

“No,” says Yondu firmly. “Ya don't.”

Rocket swallows. “You don't get to leave, though,” he tells Yondu quietly. “You don't get to give me this and then take it away. I'll kill you. Got it?”

Yondu’s quiet for a long moment. Then his fingers bury themselves in Rocket's fur. “I got it, Rat.”

\---

Rocket knows this is gonna blow up in his face. He made it through the whole rest of the day without seeing Kraglin, and he locked his door when he shut himself in for the night. And he slept in the ducts just to be safe. He can't avoid Kraglin forever, but he can delay the inevitable until he's good and ready.

He knows he's never gonna be ready, okay? But if a guy’s coming after you for sleeping with his man, it's always better to be armed.

He feels like the dumb fuck who kissed José’s girl.

He _is_ the dumb fuck who kissed José's girl.

“Goddammit,” he mutters.

“I am Groot?” Groot peers up at him. They're working on repairing some damage to the wiring caused by orloni. 

“Nothin’ you gotta worry about,” Rocket reassures him with a little pat. Groot gives him a sweet smile and Rocket suddenly misses him so bad it aches. He picks the little tree up and curls around him, resting his cheek against rough bark. 

“I am Groot?”

“Love you,” mumbles Rocket. 

“I am Groot,” is the warm reply, and in it Rocket hears everything he needs to.

There's something really simple about Groot when he's all little like this. It's soothing. A tiny branch pats him on the back while he cuddles the hell outta the kid, but it don't last too long before Groot’s squirming away to go chase orloni through the ducts.

Rocket sighs. What the hell, he was done fixing the wiring anyway.

After his tools are all packed up, he shimmies down through the ducts into the hangar where Nebula’s M-ship is eventually gonna have to move to make room for the _Milano_. There ain't enough room in the Quadrant for two, unless Rocket can get help from someone who actually knows engineering to expand the smaller hangar where they'd kept that drilling vessel. He's not optimistic about his chances. Shame too, because they really could use the second M-ship. And maybe Nebula sticking around wouldn't be the worst thing.

Rocket sets down his tool box and brushes dust and space grime off his suit. He's gonna be funkier than Yondu at this rate. 

“Thanks for draggin’ that crap outta the ducts for me,” Kraglin says sarcastically behind him.

Rocket pauses mid-pat. “If you guys cleaned your ducts more than once every thirty years I wouldn't be draggin’ it in here.”

Kraglin snorts and Rocket figures it's safe to turn around. If he was gonna get stabbed, Kraglin would have done it in the back. The guy isn't stupid, after all.

He's leaning against the railing when Rocket faces him, wiry arms crossed. His ugly jumpsuit is folded down and tied at the waist, and there's a greasy rag shoved in there. Rocket can see that the little tattoos on his neck go all the way down one arm.

“What were you working on, anyway?” asks Rocket, curious in spite of himself.

“Lookin’ at a couple things for Nebula before she heads out.” 

Rocket's almost gonna miss her. “You know, if we had a decent budget we could expand the hangar.”

“Yeah, we could.” Kraglin's staring at him.

Rocket ain't gonna break first. “How are you not freezing?” he asks, waving at the ratty tank top Kraglin's got on. He's never seen anyone but Drax go sleeveless in deep space. Kraglin's got hair all along his forearms, but not enough to insulate his bony ass.

Kraglin shrugs a tattooed shoulder and keeps staring. “Don't bother me none.”

Dammit. Rocket's gotta get out of here. “Well, as horrifyingly awkward as this has been, I gotta go shower. See ya.”

“I know you fucked him,” says Kraglin clearly before Rocket can do more than turn.

He cringes. “Uhhh...”

“He told me. Said it didn't take much t’ get your ass in the air like a bitch in heat.”

Rocket freezes, shame and something hotter rushing through him. “That ain't what he said.”

The chuckle behind him is dark and dirty. “Nah, that ain't what he said. But I know what kind he likes.”

“Then where do you fit?” Rocket turns around slowly, the hair on the back of his neck standing up when he meets Kraglin's eyes. “You roll over and spread when he tells you?”

“Oh, no. I do the fuckin’.” Light glints off Kraglin's metal tooth when he smirks. “Don't mean anyone else gets to.”

“You don't own him,” snaps Rocket.

Kraglin rolls his eyes. “That ain't what I meant. He don't roll over for no one but me.”

Rocket can picture it. He don't want to, exactly, but the image of Kraglin pushing Yondu's face into the mattress while he holds him down and pounds into him is disturbingly vivid. He swallows.

Kraglin pushes off the railing, letting his arms fall to his sides. He moves differently than Rocket's used to, a confident stalk that's actually kind of hot now that Rocket recognizes it as a weird mating dance.

He hopes it's a mating dance and he's not about to get shanked. Yondu said he was gonna take care of Kraglin, but Yondu's not here.

Rocket weighs his options. If he was in Kraglin's shoes he'd be a lot more pissed than Kraglin seems to be. He sure wouldn't be trying to sleep with the dude who made a move on his guy. More like stab wounds and gnawed off genitalia, if he's being honest. But hey, if Kraglin doesn't wanna kill him, he's not gonna complain. Hell with it. “You gonna stab me or suck my dick?”

That stops Kraglin in his tracks; Rocket lets himself grin at how far his eyebrows shoot up.

“You're a ballsy little bastard,” he says, and it sounds admiring. 

Rocket shrugs and brushes some extra dust balls off his shoulder. “It's part of my charm. Seriously though, is this a thing you get off on? You gonna pass me back and forth to get each other going?”

When he looks up, Kraglin's wearing a thoughtful expression. “Never had anyone stick around long enough t’ get passed back an’ forth,” he muses. 

“Well, I ain't goin’ anywhere, beanpole, and neither are you, so we gotta figure out how to share.” Now Rocket's the one with his arms crossed.

They size each other up for a long moment. 

Then Kraglin says, “figures you'd need two t’ keep ya satisfied. I know a cock hungry slut when I see one.”

And Rocket grins. “You said it yourself. We're greedy.”

“Yep,” Kraglin nods. “Come on. You ain't the only one who needs a shower.”

“Oh, we're doing this together now?” Rocket falls into step next to him. 

Kraglin shrugs. “That a problem?”

“Nope. I just didn't realize you bathed.”

“I think ya like it dirty,” Kraglin says with a filthy smirk. 

“Maybe I do. You gonna mess me up?” Rocket shoots back.

“Keep bein’ a smartass. See where it gets ya.” Kraglin's grinning down at him.

“On my back with my balls in your mouth, hopefully,” says Rocket, because if there's one thing he's good at, it's talking. 

Kraglin snorts. “More like over my knee beggin’ t’ come while I smack your smart ass.”

Rocket pretends to consider. “Nah, I think I'd rather come on your face. Might be an improvement.”

“I'm gonna enjoy fuckin’ that attitude outta ya,” Kraglin purrs, and Rocket shivers. “Brat like you needs someone t’ keep you in line.”

Yondu called him a brat too. Rocket's gonna get a complex at this rate. But he can't deny that Kraglin's words get him shivery and hot. It's a new sensation. Historically he's never liked the idea of letting anyone else get too close; before Groot, no one ever touched him unless they intended something bad.

But Yondu's different. Rocket's never met anyone like Yondu. And Kraglin...Kraglin's the only other person who might feel the same way Rocket does. Does loving the same person tie you together, he wonders?

“Let's see if you can handle me,” he challenges with a raised chin.

“Oh, I can handle ya.” One of Kraglin's hands falls on his shoulder, and it doesn't make him flinch. “Walk.”

Rocket lets Kraglin steer him past the communal shower at the end of the corridor and to the left before he puts his hand against a biometric lock and the door springs open. Curious about any part of the ship he hasn't seen before, Rocket looks around.

They're in Yondu's room, because Kraglin's hand is synced to the lock on the captain's quarters, and Yondu might've given up the title of captain, but he didn't give up all the perks.

Kraglin brought him back to Yondu's room to fuck. That shouldn't get Rocket as hot as it does. 

“So are you gonna rub our come in the blankets so he can smell we were here?” he asks, excited by the idea now that he thinks about it.

Kraglin leans back against the door. “Temptin’, but no. He's right persnickety about the state of his bed.”

Rocket frowns at the furs draped over it. “Huh.”

Kraglin smirks. “That fur feels mighty nice when your cock’s rubbin’ against it.”

“Is that right?” Rocket quirks a brow. 

“Yep. Now strip.” Kraglin crosses his arms again.

“Uh, what?”

“Did I stutter?” snaps Kraglin in that irritating voice Quill uses when he's being a jackass. Good to know he comes by it honestly. “I said strip. Take your clothes off for me.”

Rocket swallows. “It ain't pretty,” he hedges, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He'd been pretty into things by the time Yondu took his suit off, and that was different from this. 

“I ain't either. Do it.” Kraglin's got that hooded look again. It makes Rocket squirm in a slightly more fun way. 

“Well, don't say I didn't warn you,” he mutters, going for the straps across his chest. He shimmies out of the suit and kicks it aside before glaring up at Kraglin. “Happy?” He's painfully aware of all the weird bits of hardware that stick out of his skin, and the ones that jut out just under, rendering him grotesque and unnatural.

But Kraglin's eyes drop right to his crotch, where there's not currently much to see besides more fur. “Get your dick out.”

“Only comes out when it's hard,” says Rocket, quieter now. He can't decide if it's sexy or embarrassing, Kraglin staring at his junk like that. 

“So play with yourself.” Kraglin meets his eyes again and okay, yeah, this is hot. 

Rocket doesn't do this much. No privacy on the _Milano_ meant there weren't a lot of opportunities to rub one out without Quill’s stupid face or Drax’s snoring to kill the mood. And before that, Groot was always around, which was great but not conducive to getting his rocks off. 

He doesn't like to think about the times before Groot.

He's never done it like this before, with someone watching him like they wanna take a bite out of him. Rocket can feel Kraglin's eyes on him as he reaches between his legs to stroke his dick. It's already starting to slip out; he's more turned on by this little game than he's sure what to do with.

Rocket's eyes slip closed as he works himself. When his cock slides out of its sheath the cool air makes him whimper. He can't look at Kraglin, his face is already too warm as it is. It's embarrassing and it's dirty and it's so good, touching himself like this. Like he's putting on a show. Like he's something worth wanting.

“There it is,” murmurs Kraglin. Rocket's dick jumps at the sound of his voice. “Ain't that cute? I haven't seen somethin’ that pink an’ wet since the last time I licked a Krylorian girl's cunt.”

Rocket gasps, torn between the hot rush of shame and the thought of Kraglin with his head buried between pink thighs. 

“Get your hand off it now.” When Rocket opens his eyes, Kraglin's kneeling down in front of him. They're about the same height like this, and Rocket flushes at the heat in Kraglin's eyes. 

He lets go of his cock and raises his hands so Kraglin can see them. 

A flash of crooked teeth accompanies the “good boy” Kraglin purrs at him.

And fuck, that should turn him off. That should get him good and fucking pissed, because he's not an animal. But Kraglin isn't saying it like he is. Kraglin ain't looking at him like he's an animal.

Rocket's standing in the middle of the room, hard and panting, and Kraglin's looking at him like he imagines any horny guy would look at someone they wanna fuck. 

Who knew jacking off in front of a dude could be an ego boost?

Kraglin's faster than he expects when he grabs Rocket by the thighs. Rocket snarls a warning, but Kraglin doesn't hurt him. Just pulls him into his lap and flips his tail up.

Rocket moans at that, lifting his ass without thinking.

“Feels good t’ be someone's bitch sometimes, don't it?” growls Kraglin. His cock is hard, pressing against Rocket's.

Rocket squirms against it, caught by Kraglin's hands. The pressure’s so good he could cry.

“Quit it,” Kraglin snaps. “I ain't here t’ let you hump me.” He finds Rocket's asshole and taps a finger against it. “Fuck. You're too tight for me t’ get my cock in there. I'd rip you apart, wouldn't I?”

Rocket nods, whining as Kraglin presses the very tip of his finger in dry. It feels so good, just the edge of a burn to make him crazy.

“Bet you'd like me t’ try though, wouldn't you? Bet you want me t’ stuff you full.” Kraglin's cooing now, just petting Rocket’s hole while Rocket tries not to rub his cock on him.

“You're a goddamn tease,” he snarls. “You do this to Yondu?”

Kraglin laughs. “You wanna know what I do t’ him?”

Rocket looks up at him with wide eyes. The idea that Yondu ever felt this hot and desperate is something Rocket's never really considered, but it catches in his brain and he does wanna know. “Tell me. Tell me while you fuck me.”

They stare at each other, and Kraglin's smile is slow and filthy. “You might be the perviest little fucker I've ever met.”

“Like you can talk. You make a habit of gettin’ off on your man’s sloppy seconds.” Rocket grins back at him. “He was a lot nicer to me than you are, jerk.”

“Is that right? What'd he do that was so nice?” Kraglin's cock twitches, betraying the relaxed look on his face.

Rocket grinds down shamelessly. “Sat me in his lap. Touched me just right and then fucked between my thighs after he got me off. I can still smell him on me if I concentrate.”

“Oh, _hell,_ ” Kraglin whispers, jerking against Rocket. He lets him go and hisses, “flip over. I wanna get that tight little hole o’ yours wet. And you tell me everything while I do it.”

Rocket scrambles onto his hands and knees. Kraglin's a sex genius, and he wants to see what he's gonna do next.

He's starting to really get into having his tail flipped up to expose his ass. It taps into all his base instincts, makes him arch up and present. And that makes it all the better when he feels Kraglin's hot tongue drag across his hole.

“ _Oh my god,_ ” he moans, shoving a hand in his mouth so he doesn't alert the whole ship with his yowling. “You fucking freak.”

Kraglin makes a muffled noise behind him that Rocket can feel down to his toes. He pulls away to mutter, “said you was gonna talk,” before he dives back in, slurping obscenely against Rocket's asshole.

“Prevert,” Rocket pants gleefully. “Eatin’ me out while I tell you how I fucked your man? That's sick.” He can feel Kraglin laughing, the vibration of it shooting straight to his dick. “You're fucking sick. You make all the others he's fucked report back to you? Do you jerk off thinking about him doing that same shit to y-you?” Kraglin pushes the tip of his tongue inside and Rocket can't speak for a second. He bites his lip and tries to hold back the weird snarling sounds he keeps wanting to make. “H-he's got such big hands. They feel so-- _shit!_ \--good. When he puts them all over me. Feels so good...”

His cock is actually dripping. It's never done that before. He wants to come, preferably in Kraglin's stupid beard. And then lick it off him. 

Kraglin raises his head and Rocket wants to scream. “I made him hold himself open for me while I licked him like this. Just so I could watch his hands shake.” 

Rocket looks over his shoulder at him, chest heaving. “Shit, Kraglin. You gotta fuck me, I need you to. Get something in me or I swear to god--”

He's not even sure what he wants to threaten Kraglin with, because the biometric lock on the door disengages with a cheerful ‘beep’ and Yondu steps inside. 

“Hey, Krags, where'd I put my--” he stops when he looks up from his datapad and spots the pair of them on the floor. “Aw, hell. Seriously?”

Rocket waves sheepishly. 

Kraglin sits up on his knees and wipes his mouth. “It's on your desk in the top drawer. Right where ya left it.”

“Thanks.” Yondu puts his hands on his hips and looks between them. “Thought I told you I'd handle Kraglin, boy.”

“I don't follow directions well,” says Rocket with a shrug. “Besides, this guy's the right kind of deviant.”

Kraglin looks flattered. 

“He was just about to quit teasing me, weren't you?” Rocket narrows his eyes at Kraglin.

Yondu snorts when Kraglin just swats Rocket's ass. “Not when you give him that kinda lip. If he don't getcha cryin’ by the time he's through with ya, he don't figure he fucked you right.”

“You wanna supervise then?” Rocket offers with a leer. “Make sure he does a good job?”

Yondu's eyebrows shoot up and he grins. “You ain't bein’ very subtle, ya know. Coulda jus’ said ya wanted us both.”

“Cock hungry slut,” Kraglin murmurs next to his ear, and it feels even dirtier with Yondu here to hear it. Rocket shivers.

“Finally found someone who likes yer dirty mouth as much as I do, huh?” Yondu asks Kraglin cheerfully.

Kraglin runs a hand down Rocket's back, avoiding his hardware. “Reckon you found him, cap'n. You gonna join us?”

“Krags, ya look like ya oiled yerself up t’ go crawlin’ through ducts. An’ he's got orloni shit in his fur. Get yer asses in the shower an’ then we can talk.”

Rocket looks down, horrified. Sure enough, there's something nasty on his arm. “What the fuck, Kraglin. You could've told me! Now he thinks we're both gross!”

Kraglin just shrugs and hops to his feet. “Didn't bother me none,” he says as he peels off his jumpsuit and tank top. He kicks his clothes to the side and ambles into Yondu's bathroom.

“Well, shit. His ass is almost as hairy as mine,” says Rocket.

Yondu laughs. “Go get clean, boy. An’ take care’a that before ya put someone's eye out.” He nods at Rocket's cock, which is still hard in spite of everything.

Rocket swallows, suddenly very aware that he's standing in a well-lit room with his dick hanging out and Yondu smiling down at him. It's weird how fast the mood can go from sexy to awkward and back again. No one ever told him that's how sex works.

He ain't as embarrassed as he thought he would be. 

“Leave the door open,” Yondu calls after him as he turns toward the sound of running water. “I wanna hear how loud he can make ya moan.”

Rocket's breath catches. “You're as twisted as he is, aren't you?”

“At th’ very least. Don't keep him waitin’ now.” Yondu flashes him a cocky smile.

It's good advice, because Kraglin's on him as soon as he steps into the bathroom. He pulls him into the shower and smushes him face first against the wall. 

Rocket growls. “You be careful with surprisin’ me. I'll bite one of your nuts off if you pull that again.”

Kraglin kneels down behind him. “Why didn't ya this time then?”

The real answer is because the room reeks like Yondu and it makes Rocket feel safe, but no way is he telling Kraglin that. “Because I'm horny. You gonna do somethin’ about that?”

Kraglin glances behind himself at the open door. “He want us t’ put on a show?” he asks in a husky whisper that shoots straight to Rocket's dick.

“Yeah,” he whispers back, grabbing for Kraglin's hand and bringing it to his cock.

“Uh uh,” says Kraglin, loud enough to be heard outside. “You're gonna come on my fingers or ya ain't gonna come at all.”

Rocket moans and arches his back, lifting his ass as much as he can without slipping. He can hear Kraglin slicking up his fingers--with soap, probably--and then a long bony finger presses into him and drags a needy, animal noise out of him.

He's never had anything inside him before; granted, his sex life was pretty much nonexistent until yesterday, but still. Some horny virgins experiment. Rocket preferred to repress and deny until he barely thought about sex as more than something humies did in the showers in prison. But this? This is amazing. Kraglin's got long, bony fingers that curve just right, and the slight sting of the soap adds an edge that's driving Rocket crazy. 

Kraglin's gotta be so hard, finger banging Rocket like this knowing Yondu's outside listening to to all the noises Rocket keeps making. He pulls his finger out and gets a growl before he shoves it back in, along with a second that stretches Rocket almost to the point of pain.

And Rocket? Rocket's pinned against the wall, hands scrabbling at the tiles as Kraglin crooks two wicked fingers against his prostate.

He didn't even know he had a prostate, but he ain't complaining. All the other weird shit they did to him, he figures he's owed a magic button up his ass that makes this feel so good.

He can feel his orgasm building, steady like the rhythm Kraglin's fucking him with. His hands grip the tiles, sensitive now that they're wet, and he hangs his head with a throaty moan. He wonders if Yondu's touching himself and moans again, louder. 

Kraglin takes it as encouragement and speeds up, pushing Rocket up onto his toes as he starts to shake from the intensity of it. 

“Oh god--shit-- _Kraglin!_ ” He comes untouched, painting the wall as he howls through it. Kraglin's hands are the only thing keeping him from falling on his ass and he can't care, it's too good.

He drifts a little afterward, content to let Kraglin soap up his fur. The touches feel good, and so does the warm water after Kraglin lets him go to rinse himself off. 

“You're still hard,” he slurs as Kraglin gets to his feet to turn off the water. It's hard to miss when his dick is staring Rocket in the face. It's a nice color, a dark purple that probably looks amazing next to Yondu's blue skin.

Kraglin glances down with a smirk. “Did I break you?”

“Yep.” Rocket gives him a lazy grin. “Where's a towel so I don't drip everywhere?”

Kraglin tosses one at him, and Rocket takes the time to get as much water out of his fur as he can. He doesn't wanna ruin Yondu's bed, and okay, maybe Kraglin did break him, because he's never been what you'd call considerate. But he's gonna try, since it's Yondu.

It scares him, what he'd be willing to do for Yondu's sake.

But when they make their way out of the bathroom to find Yondu sitting in his bed, reading from his datapad wearing only his ratty white underwear, something in Rocket's chest relaxes.

Shit. He really does love him.

Yondu raises his eyebrows. “You sure are a screamer, boy,” he tells Rocket with a grin. “Might have t’ hand out earplugs.”

Kraglin slides into bed next to Yondu, pressing up against his side and plucking the datapad from his hands. Yondu lets him do it with an indulgent smirk.

“C’mere,” he says, patting his open side.

Rocket scrambles up, settling into the crook of Yondu's arm. His scent blends with Kraglin's here in their bed; Rocket pulls in deep breaths through his nose. It does more to relax him than the booze he keeps in his room. Desperate to get closer, he licks Yondu's neck where the scent is strongest.

It gets him a chuckle. “Yer a real sweetheart after you been good an’ fucked, ain't ya?” Yondu curls a hand around the back of his neck, encouraging him to stay put. “So whattaya think, Kraglin? I say we keep him.”

“‘S what you said about Quill,” Kraglin mutters, but he huffs a laugh. “Guess this ain't quite the same.”

“Not quite,” Yondu echoes dryly. 

Kraglin kisses him then, and Rocket looks up to see their tongues sliding against each other. Yondu lets out a soft noise before Kraglin pulls back.

“You ready?” he asks huskily.

Yondu nods. “Prepped while you was in there makin’ him howl.”

“You like listenin’ to that? He makes some pretty noises, don't he?” Kraglin glances at Rocket, who grins at him.

“He sure does.” Yondu looks down fondly. 

Kraglin palms Yondu's cock through his underwear, earning himself a hiss. “How do ya want it? On your back? On my back? You wanna ride me? Or should I put your legs over my shoulders?”

Yondu moans. “On my knees,” he whispers. “Want you behind me.”

“Get these off then.” Kraglin snaps the band of Yondu's underwear and reaches for the drawer in the bedside table, ignoring Yondu's glare.

Rocket snickers. 

“Keep laughin’, boy,” Yondu mutters. He pushes his underwear down over a surprisingly round blue ass and kicks them away.

Rocket's mouth waters at the sight of him. 

Yondu's compact and stocky where Kraglin's all long lean limbs. He's got no body hair, which Rocket would like to explore in detail some time. His arms and thighs are powerful looking, and he's got the cutest soft belly Rocket's ever seen. He also has--

“Is that a pouch?”

Yondu looks down briefly. “Yep. S’posed t’ be fer babies.”

“Tell me you never tried to fit Quill in there.”

That makes Yondu laugh. “Woulda been damn convenient. Kid used t’ run off damn near every time we went planetside.”

Kraglin finds the bottle he was looking for and clambers back onto the bed. Rocket snickers a little at the sight of his hard cock flopping around. “Okay, Cap'n. Up on your knees.”

Yondu shifts until Kraglin's satisfied, kneeling up with his legs spread. Kraglin slides behind him like they're interlocking Nova ships, and Rocket uses his quick fingers to steal the bottle. 

“Let me,” he says when they both look at him.

He pours some lube on his hands and takes a minute to get them good and slick so his calluses soften up. It'd be sorta rude to go grabbing Kraglin's junk with rough hands. When he's good to go, he reaches out to touch that pretty purple cock. He needs both hands; the skinny bastard’s packing. 

Kraglin's breath catches as he watches Rocket slick him up. When Rocket glances up to meet his eyes, Kraglin's staring down at him with that same hungry look from earlier. His eyes are blue.

Rocket never noticed that before.

He traces the very tip of his claw lightly over the head; Kraglin’s dick jumps. “You're good,” he says as he lets him go.

Kraglin takes a deep breath and pushes into Yondu. It's incredible; Yondu's moan, the sight of Kraglin's cock disappearing into that slick blue hole, the low hiss Kraglin makes as he tries to go slow, all of it sends that hot shivery feeling through Rocket again. 

They're gorgeous together. Rocket knows neither of them are exactly what you'd call pretty, but together they're so sexy he wants to die.

All he can do is sit there and watch, mesmerized, as they move together. It takes them a couple minutes to find their rhythm. Yondu has his back arched and his head thrown back as Kraglin holds his hips and fucks into him. Kraglin's skinny ass keeps pumping steadily, thigh muscles tensing with the strain.

Rocket can see him shaking; he's been horny and on edge longer than Yondu has. 

“You gonna last long, beanpole?” he asks, moving close enough to run a hand up Yondu's thigh. “Looks like you're about to blow.”

Kraglin makes a face at him. “I can hold off,” he mutters. “Long as I need to.”

Rocket looks down at Yondu's lap. His cock bobs in time with Kraglin's thrusts and looks hard enough to pound nails. When he looks up again, Yondu's watching him with slitted red eyes and a knowing smile. 

“Do it,” he says softly. “If ya want.”

He does want. He wants so bad his mouth is wet and his dick’s threatening to slide out again. He's just not sure how the logistics are gonna work. After all, his teeth are pretty sharp.

A warm blue hand settles on the back of his neck, easing him down, and Rocket opens his mouth. He licks tentatively at the head of Yondu's cock, salt flavor bursting on his tongue. It's so good, and the scent of their fucking drives Rocket further down, lapping eagerly at soft skin like the animal he is.

Yondu groans, deep in his chest. “Ah, hell. You got a sweet li’l tongue, boy.”

The praise makes Rocket shiver and open his mouth wider. He tries to curl his lips over his teeth like he's seen people do in pornos; it kinda works. Well enough that he can get the tip of Yondu's dick in his mouth while he uses his hands on the rest of him. He's never gonna be able to properly suck dick, but Yondu's encouraging moans mean he must be doing okay with just his tongue.

“ _Shit,_ ” whispers Kraglin faintly.

Rocket looks up to see them both watching him intently; Kraglin has his chin hooked over Yondu's shoulder. Yondu’s got a death grip on the guy's hair, fist balled in the longer part on top like he can steer him with it. His other hand is still gentle on Rocket's neck.

The heat in their eyes is too intense; it makes him feel things he's not quite sure how to deal with, so he sets to work licking at Yondu while he jerks him off. Yondu hisses a little when Rocket's teeth graze his dick, but when Rocket tries to pull away he tightens his grip on his neck.

“Nearly there,” he pants. “Jus’ a little more, boy. Like that...”

Kraglin comes with a muffled groan, his face turned into Yondu's neck. 

And Rocket wants so badly to make this good, to get Yondu off and prove that he can do this in spite of the weird shape of his mouth. The taste of him is incredible; honestly, Rocket could spend all day buried in Yondu's crotch. That's another animal thing that seems to come out more when he's fucking. Go figure.

Yondu tenses, his grip on Rocket's nape tightening. “I'm about t’ come, boy, if you don't wanna swallow.”

Rocket looks up, meets Yondu's eyes, and curls his tongue around the head of his cock. Yondu curses and comes in his mouth with a low moan.

The first spurt is great, but after that Rocket has to pull back to keep from choking. He sits up and starts grooming himself; come is a bitch to get out of fur.

He had to learn that the hard way. Never again.

When he looks up from cleaning his fur, they're both laying on their sides, sweaty limbs tangling together. Kraglin's spooned up against Yondu's back, hands absently petting over his belly. He gets a smack when he wanders too close to the pouch, and yeah, Rocket's gonna have to ask about that sometime.

But not now.

It's funny, he thinks as he curls up next to Yondu. He used to hate being touched. A warm hand strokes down his back, making his ear twitch. He's not sure who's petting him, and he doesn't much care. Weirdest thing, how even Kraglin's touch feels safe with Yondu here. They're not his family, not exactly, but they're something else he never thought he'd get to have.

And maybe they're gonna make a huge ugly mess of this. Maybe Rocket will ruin things like he always does. But he's gonna try not to. He shifts closer to Yondu's side, soaking up the affection as long as it lasts.

\---

The clock says it's been about an hour when Rocket peers at it. He sits up and scowls because he can feel his fur mashed flat against the side of his face. 

“Wore you out good, huh?”

He turns to where Yondu's sitting at his desk, hunched over his datapad in only his underwear.

“Where's Kraglin?” he asks, trying to fluff his fur back into place.

“Bridge. ‘S his turn on the navs.” Yondu turns and gives Rocket a hesitant look. “You alright?”

“Huh?” Rocket stops licking his paw to stare. “Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?”

“Don't exactly take a genius t’ figure out all this is all pretty new t’ you.” Yondu eyes him. “An’ you're a fair bit younger ‘n us.”

Rocket narrows his eyes. “You better not be tryin’ to get rid of me, old man.”

Yondu rolls his eyes. “I'm not. I'm tryin’ t’ make sure we don't screw this up.”

“Oh.” Rocket looks down. There's still a lot he doesn't know about Yondu and Kraglin and how this shit works in general. He don't like feeling naive, but it's sorta nice that they're looking out for him. “Thanks, I guess.”

Yondu nods like that's the end of it. And maybe it is. Rocket's never understood Quill’s touchy feely approach to crap like relationships. He'd be happy never having to talk about feelings at all.

Still.

“Kraglin's cool with everything?” He doesn't like how cautiously he asks that.

“Boy, if he'd ever really had a problem I'd be sittin’ in the medbay with a knife planted somewhere I'd rather it not be.” Yondu throws a cocky grin at him. “Three of us make a good team.”

And Rocket gives up pretending he doesn't want to cross the room and curl up in Yondu's lap. Why shouldn't he? It's the first time he's ever been sure he's allowed stuff like that. Yondu grunts when Rocket settles against his chest, but wraps an arm around him obligingly. 

“Yeah, I got you,” he mutters, giving Rocket's ear an affectionate tweak before he picks up his datapad.

“What’re you working on anyway?” asks Rocket, peering at the screen.

“Jus’ sendin’ a message to Stakar warnin’ him not t’ try poachin’ my boys off me again.” Yondu says it lightly, but Rocket can hear the brittleness underneath.

“Wanna know what I think?” He lays a paw on Yondu's hand before he can send the message.

Yondu grunts.

“I think he's a paranoid old bastard just like you, and I think he freaked out when he found out your guys did a mutiny on you.”

“Watch who you call old, brat,” mumbles Yondu. But he's listening.

“Yeah, yeah, gramps. Anyway, you ask me, that's him being all sneaky to figure out how loyal Kraglin actually is to you.” Rocket gives him a pointed look.

Yondu looks away. 

“It's the kind of thing I'd do if I didn't want someone thinking I cared too much,” Rocket finally admits. 

“That right?” Yondu strokes a finger under Rocket's chin, which is amazing. 

Rocket closes his eyes and shivers. “Yeah.”

“Might be onto somethin’ there, boy,” Yondu muses. He pulls his hand away and settles it on Rocket's back instead.

Rocket tries not to be too disappointed. “Obviously I'm onto something. I was built to have genius level intellect, which means I'm almost always right about nearly everything.” 

“Smartest man in the room don't usually need t’ brag about bein’ the smartest man in the room.” Yondu gives him a pointed look.

Rocket scowls. “You can't be rude to me. I sucked your dick.”

And that makes Yondu laugh. “Sweetheart, if that was the rule I'd have a lot more friends all over the galaxy.” He rubs an affectionate hand over Rocket's head, catching both good spots behind his ears. 

Rocket snaps halfheartedly at his fingers and smirks when Yondu snatches them back. “Don't give a shit about whoever else had their face in your junk. That's my rule.”

“Is that right?” Yondu's still grinning.

“Yeah, that's right.” His scent’s all mixed up with Yondu and Kraglin's; he can smell it on Yondu's skin and soaked into his own fur. It does more to make him feel wanted than any words Yondu could use to sweet talk him. 

“Well,” says Yondu thoughtfully, “I figure I can behave myself if it means I get your sweet li’l tongue any time I want it.” 

Rocket makes a face, ignoring the heat that shoots through him. “Quit bein’ a perv,” he mumbles.

“Quit pretendin’ you don't like it,” Yondu shoots back, and it's still so easy, just being here with him like this.

\---

Before he was avoiding Kraglin. Now he's avoiding Quill.

Rocket's having a weird week when it comes to interpersonal relationships. 

Nebula knows he's banging Yondu and Kraglin; she camps out in his room more often than not and finally she cracked and asked. That conversation called for another bottle of booze, and Yondu had had some smartass remarks the next morning about finding him in bed with some other woman. Again.

He's glad they both think it's funny. He's sick of waking up with his face mashed in Nebula’s chest. 

“No such thing as a bad pair o’ tits,” Yondu’d said philosophically when Rocket bitched about it; Rocket's slightly ashamed of the fact that he blew him anyway, after he kicked Nebula out.

But back to Quill.

Rocket hasn't spent a lot of time with him since the whole thing with Ego went down. Quill’s been keeping to himself more than usual, or hiding out with Gamora. Seems like Rocket ain't the only one with a brand new romance taking up most of his time. 

Trouble is, they're both on shift together now, and Rocket can't quite manage to look Quill in the eye. 

He's been fiddling with the music for awhile, trying not to be too obvious, when Quill finally snaps, “are you mad at me?”

Rocket jerks around, blinking. “Huh?”

Quill’s staring out ahead. “If I did something,” he begins, and Rocket has to stop him.

“Nah, Quill. You didn't do nothing.”

“No? Because you're kinda acting like I did something. You're not doing that thing where you say you're fine but it's really girl fine, are you?”

“What the hell is girl fine?” demands Rocket.

Quill frowns at him. “It's where you say everything's fine, but then you slam doors and I find a turd in my pillowcase.”

Rocket just stares. How the hell did Yondu raise such a freaking dork?

Easy answer. Yondu is totally a dork, but it's a lot cuter when he does it.

“Dude. Everything is not girl fine, it's actually fine. We're fine.” Rocket huffs and crosses his arms.

Quill's eyebrows do a thing that Rocket's pretty sure means they're not fine.

He strategically changes the subject. “So you finally got Gamora to go out with you, huh?”

It works. Shocker. “Yeah. We, uh, talked about some stuff, and it's...it's good.” Quill gives him a dopey grin that's not charming at all.

Rocket snorts. “Wore her down,” he says, just to be a dick.

“More like she accepted that she was drawn in by my mad charisma.”

“Uh huh. I'm gonna ask her about that.”

“Like hell you are! Besides, aren't you hanging out with Nebula quite a bit? What's that about?” Quill looks smug, like he's got something figured out.

Oh no. “If you think me and Nebula have anything going on, then you are truly as stupid as you look.”

“Oh really? You know, she's pretty cute. Like, not that I'm into grumpy and blue, but if you are, that's cool.”

Rocket's gonna die. He covers his face to hide his cringe. “What did I do to deserve this?” he mutters.

“Huh?” Quill looks over at him, still grinning at his lame ass attempt at humor.

And Rocket just isn't finding it all that funny. “Ha ha, Quill. Thought of me gettin’ together with someone is real freaking hilarious. Got it.”

“Hey, that is _not_ what I meant,” snaps Quill. “Seriously, what is with you?”

“Maybe Nebula ain't the grumpy and blue I'm into, huh? Ever think about _that,_ Star-Munch?”

Quill's mouth falls open and he gapes stupidly at Rocket, mouth flapping.

Well, crap.

“Hey, look, I-” His attempt to smooth things over is interrupted once Quill finds his voice.

“You--what?-- _dude!_ That’s my _dad!_ ”

Rocket sighs. 

Quill keeps going. “Besides, dude, barking up the totally unavailable tree there. Him and Kraglin have been a not-thing since before they picked me up. Like, stay away from that if you know what's good for you.”

Rocket buries his face in his hands. 

“And on top of that, he's way too old for you, man!” Quill shakes his head. “Seriously, Rocket, I mean it. You don't wanna go there, even if Yondu was into you, which, I mean--”

“You mean what?” snaps Rocket. “He seemed pretty into me last night.”

Quill goes perfectly still.

“Yeah,” says Rocket coldly. “About time you shut that hole in your face. I didn't want to make it weird, but it's weird. I acknowledge that. Okay? Don't be an asshole.” He crosses his arms again, shoulders drawing up as he waits for Quill's response.

When it comes, it's softer than he expects. “I...didn't even think you liked humanoids,” Quill says hesitantly. “You talked like we grossed you out.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn't like I had people busting down my door to get a piece of this,” Rocket mutters bitterly. “Was easier to act like I didn't give a shit.”

“And that's all cool and all, but why are you fucking my _dad?_ ” Quill looks miserable and grossed out.

Rocket hunches further down in his chair. “I don't gotta explain anything to you,” he mutters. Ain't Quill's place to judge him, even if it is weird. No one gets to tell him he can't have this.

“How does that even--?”

“If you ask me about logistics I will chew your fucking face off,” Rocket snarls.

“Screw you, man, I'm not an asshole! And I don't even remotely want to know about that!” Quill glares at him. “I was gonna say, how does that even work with Kraglin? You're not like--” he lowers his voice dramatically, “the other woman, are you?”

Rocket stares at him. “Yondu and Kraglin are a package deal,” he says bluntly. “I bought the package. We're cool.”

“Oh wow.” Quill sits back. “That's...I was not expecting that.”

“Me neither,” Rocket grumbles. 

“You...and Yondu.” Quill stares into the void like it might helpfully provide an explanation. “I’m just--you two are like the same person. It's so weird!”

Rocket hunches his shoulders again. Kinda surprising, but he actually really cares what Quill thinks. If Rocket has a best friend, then Quill's it, and he doesn't wanna lose that. 

“--okay,” Quill's saying with new confidence, “okay, we gotta have a couple rules.”

“What? What are you even talking about?” Rocket gapes at him. “What rules?”

“First of all, I never wanna hear a single word about your sex life. Congrats and all, but we don't talk about it.”

“Why the hell would I tell you about that? That's personal! Not everyone likes to get drunk and tell stories about our conquests, Quill! And that actually set you back with Gamora by at least a month.”

Quill winces. “Yeah, I know. That's why I don't do it anymore. Second, you don't get to boss me around just because you're dating Yondu.”

“Does Kraglin get to boss you around?” Rocket asks slyly.

“Not since I was eighteen. Don't be a dick.” Quill glares at him. 

Rocket snorts.

“Third, you were my friend first, so you do not get to take his side if we fight.”

Rocket raises an eyebrow. “But what if he's right?”

“What? No! He's never right anyway.”

“He was right about Ego,” Rocket points out.

“Being right one time does not give you license to side with him over me,” mumbles Quill.

“What if I'm pissed at you when you're fighting with him?”

“Stop being a jerk! No.”

“What if he bribes me to side with him? You gonna match prices or what?”

“Oh my god.” Quill slumps in his seat. “You are seriously the worst. I can see why he likes you.”

Rocket preens.

The familiar loud clang Drax makes when he climbs the stairs to the cockpit halts the conversation.

“How's Groot?” Rocket asks as Drax sits down behind them.

“Watching Yondu make repairs to the engines. He seems to find it fascinating.” Drax shrugs.

Rocket smiles a little to himself.

“Rule number four: get that sappy look off your face!” Quill throws a piece of candy at him.

Rocket dodges and flings it back. “Dude! That's a bullshit rule! If I have to do that, then you have to quit mooning after Gamora!”

“I don't moon! Besides, Gamora isn't _my dad!_ ”

Drax looks between them. “Quill,” he says with a frown, “Rocket has been in love with Yondu for ages. Did you not notice?”

They both turn and stare at him. “ _What?_ ”

“How the hell did you know that?” Rocket demands.

Drax blinks. “I was on the bridge with you and Kraglin when we were trying to retrieve him and Quill.”

Rocket snaps his mouth shut. He can feel Quill staring at him and he's not looking over there.

“And your room is on the same level as mine. I've heard you having sex with him and Kraglin.”

Rocket just closes his eyes and sinks lower in his seat as Quill's tantrum floats over him. He mostly tunes it out by pretending to be dead.

“--Drax, man, we talked about this!”

“It is not my fault you Earthers have such bizarre hangups about sexuality! Just be thankful you can't hear it! He makes these strange little snarling sounds--”

“I'm right here, assholes!” Rocket says to the ceiling. “And I ain't discussing my sex life with any of you jerks.”

“There's no need for discussion. I can already hear most of it,” Drax points out.

Rocket buries his face in his hands. That's it; he's moving in with Yondu. His room isn't safe anymore.

“Should I leave?” asks Gamora; when Rocket turns, she's standing with her arms crossed and looking extremely unimpressed with all of them. Nebula hovers a little behind her, inscrutable.

“Tell your boyfriend he's being a dick,” Rocket tells her.

“Tell Drax that none of us want to hear about Rocket's sex life!” snaps Quill.

Gamora's eyebrows do a funny thing that means Rocket's sex life is news to her.

Nebula coughs conspicuously into her fist.

“Two things,” says Gamora after a moment. “Drax, if Rocket doesn't want you to talk about that topic, don't do it.” She pins Rocket with a stare. “Yondu?”

“Goddammit,” he mumbles. “You told me nobody noticed!”

Nebula shrugs. “I was wrong.”

“Nebula knew before me?” yelps Quill. “Not cool, Rocket! Since when do you talk to Smurfette about stuff but not me?”

“I already told you! I know it's weird, so I didn't wanna make it more weird!”

“So you were girl fine after all.” Quill sighs.

“What is girl fine?” Drax looks at Nebula, who shrugs.

“I already told you, I wasn't girl fine! I was trying not to be a dick about this!” Rocket crosses his arms. Part of him wishes he could take it all back, hide this thing somewhere safe and quiet where no one could poke at it.

“That is uncharacteristically thoughtful of you,” Drax observes, and Rocket kind of wants to stab him.

“Girl fine isn't a thing,” says Gamora impatiently.

“Sure it is.” Yondu steps onto the bridge with Groot perched on his shoulder. “Quill just ain't usin’ it right.”

“I'm totally using it right.” Quill levels Yondu with a glare. “Why are you dating my friends, you old doofus? Midlife crisis?”

Yondu's eyebrows shoot up and he spares a glance at Rocket. “Don't see how that's any business o’ yours,” he finally says.

“Of course it's my business!” Quill gets to his feet. He's taller than Yondu, something Rocket never really noticed before. Everyone's taller than him so the height differences never made much of an impact before now.

But now Quill's getting in Yondu's face, and only the fin on Yondu's head keeps him from looming.

“I swear to god,” Quill hisses, “if you and Kraglin screw with him, we are gonna have words!”

Wait, what the hell? Rocket's dignity can take a few hits, but Quill trying to give Yondu the shovel talk is going way too far. He's on his feet and reaching over to whip one of Groot’s (or were they Yondu's?) candies at the back of Quill's head.

“Ow!” 

Direct hit, as usual. “Stop it! I got another one right here, dumbass.”

Groot climbs down Yondu and goes for the candy. Rocket should stop him, but he thinks he'll just send him to Quill's room later.

Quill turns around and gives Rocket a serious puppy face. “Look, man. I'm just trying to look out for you. This is not the first time they've done something like this!”

“That right?” drawls Yondu. He looks pissed under the smile. Same kind of pissed he looked about Stakar offering Kraglin that job.

“Quill,” says Rocket slowly, “do yourself a favor and pull your foot outta your mouth. Drop it.”

“But--”

Time for the big guns. “You really think that little of your dad?”

Nailed it. Quill's mouth snaps shut and he looks like he ate some underripe yahro root.

Everyone else on the bridge is quiet; except for Nebula, they're all finding somewhere else to look. She just quirks her lips at Rocket and leans against the wall to watch. Jerk. 

Well, and Groot lets out a happy noise as he gets the candy wrapper open and pops it in his mouth.

“Now can we please move on and pretend we never had to have this conversation?” Rocket snaps.

“I--” Quill looks guiltily at Yondu and then worriedly at Rocket. “Yeah. Fine.” He slinks back to his seat, tail metaphorically between his legs. 

Yondu raises an eyebrow at Rocket. It's as close to thanks as he's gonna get.

Rocket smirks in return and bends over to scoop Groot off the floor. Little guy's all sticky from the candy, so Rocket keeps him away from the fur.

“Show’s over, a-holes,” he announces. “Unless you got stuff to do here, get out so me and Quill can keep drivin’ this clunker.”

“Watch how you talk about my ship,” says Yondu.

“Your ship is a piece of crap and I'm amazed it still flies,” Rocket shoots back. 

“It's held together with duct tape and Kraglin's back hair,” Quill chips in.

“I am Groot.”

“We’re going,” says Gamora, and she takes Drax and Nebula with her.

Yondu hangs back, looking between Quill and Rocket. After a second he leaves without saying anything.

“That was shitty, Quill. And that's coming from me.” Rocket glares at him.

Quill won't look at him. “You didn't grow up with them. You have no idea what they can be like.”

“What about what I'm like? You gonna warn him about me?” 

“You're my friend.” Quill clenches his jaw. “Have you ever dated anyone before? At all?”

“This protective thing you're doing is weird, and you wouldn't be doing it if I was--”

“If you were what?” Now Quill's glaring. “Dude, you're not as tough as you think you are, and those two have seriously been burning through people for _decades_. Why would I trust them not to do it to you?”

“What says you won't do it to Gamora?”

Quill blinks. “That's not the same. I didn't have anyone else to think about with Gamora. Rocket, just tell me you're actually okay being the third person? What if something changes? Kraglin's jealous as hell, man. I saw him shiv a girl once because she shot him down after Yondu hooked up with her. They're crazy!”

Rocket hadn't known about that, but he can't really say he's surprised. “Okay, fine. They're pretty messed up.”

“Just a little!”

“But Quill--what do you think I'd do if one of ‘em stepped out on me?” Rocket looks at him seriously.

“Call me, hopefully,” huffs Quill.

“No,” says Rocket slowly, “I would not call you. I would keep you as far away as possible while I broke their legs and gnawed off their balls.”

Quill blanches. “Dude.”

Rocket shrugs. “I told Yondu I'd kill him if he tries to dump me.”

“That is so messed up.” Quill is staring at him with newfound horror.

“Yep.” Rocket looks down fondly at Groot. He hopes everyone doesn't suddenly feel free to share their opinions on this thing he and Kraglin and Yondu have going on. It's so new, and things with Kraglin are still kinda shaky, but Rocket has a good feeling about it.

He ain't used to being an optimist, but then again, he ain't used to being loved either.

What the hell. He's always been good at figuring things out as he goes.


End file.
